


The Few Differences between Nightmare and Reality...

by Reah22



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Demons, Family Feels, Hallucinations, More tags to be added, Supernatural Elements, That's a tag now I guess, Whumptober 2019, fear of losing family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-09 09:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20851580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reah22/pseuds/Reah22
Summary: The night wasn’t dark and stormy; rather, it was mild, and the stars and the moon shone brightly. This did nothing to offset the aura of menace hanging like a stormcloud over the sprawling grounds that made up the Manor.





	1. Shaky Hands (Bruce)

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2019 folks! I took a little bit of a different spin on this, so not quite 'whump' persay, but oh well. It's all interconnected and I'll target--sorry, focus on--a different Batfam member each day!

The night wasn’t dark and stormy; rather, it was mild, and the stars and the moon shone brightly. This did nothing to offset the aura of menace hanging like a stormcloud over the sprawling grounds that made up the Manor.

Inside, every inhabitant was home for once--they wouldn’t dare disappoint their esteemed grandfather. The lights were darkened, and each person was in their solitary rooms, asleep and unaware.

This was more unusual than one might expect, and the spectre did not want to waste it. A once in a blue moon opportunity, one might say.

Laughing silently, the shaytan swarmed over the mansion and hovered over a specific window.

We will start here. Much pain, much fear… such a joy. But there is no need for this to be the end. There is no shortage of prey here.

~~*~~

SHAKY HANDS (BRUCE)

Bruce stared silently ahead as he lay down in his bedroom, regretting the fact that they had been forced to cut patrol short that day. Still, he wasn’t foolish enough to deny Alfred anything. 

Still, something had seemed… off. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, only that it left his skin crawling and the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. There were no intruders--he had already double-checked the security footage. Nor was it Arkham; every rogue was accounted for. 

Maybe it was just that the entire family was together. After all, they typically only gathered for an extremely dangerous threat, and it could just be that he was used to it by now.

Yes, that was all. Although the reasoning in and of itself was also discouraging. How was he so out of tune with his own family that simply being in the same house made him uneasy?

He fell asleep with the constant, looming fear of his family slipping away from him, one person at a time.

~~*~~

He wasn’t quite sure what had woken him up, just that suddenly, he was on his feet in a fighting stance and all senses on high alert.

There was nothing visible in the room, but that didn’t fool the Bat. Instead of focusing on what he could see, he instead closed his eyes, searching for the feel of the room.

There was nothing there out of the ordinary. Nothing to explain why Bruce had found himself woken up and on high alert. Going back to bed was clearly no longer an option, so he made his way to the door--only to pause in the doorway as a sudden foreboding feeling gripped him.

He wasn’t going to like what was beyond that threshold, and he had no idea how he knew that.

Shaking off the premonition, Bruce grabbed a staff he kept by his bed and strode boldly out into the hallway. This was his own damn house and like hell was he going to be cowed by a scary feeling.

He went to check on his kids first, acutely aware of all of the times Dick, Tim, and Damian had snuck out to galavant around town (or the world) with their friends. Jason had been more secluded, though he had been prone to staying up at night reading. Cassandra was always the best sleeper--no, wait, she sleepwalked. Duke… Duke didn’t have a chance of being the best sleeper. If Bruce counted the number of times he found his second youngest returning in the morning from running around Gotham with the We Are Robin kids, Duke would probably rival Dick and Damian combined.

Okay, so none of his kids were good sleepers. Bruce could only hope that they all chose to stay in tonight. Although it was Halloween; he could hardly blame them if they decided to go out with friends tonight.

The first room he checked was Damian’s, feeling a short start of annoyance when he noticed the covers in disarray--coupled with an unexpected surge of fear. Pushing it down ruthlessly, Bruce closed the door behind him and half-ran to Duke’s room across the hall.

Duke’s bed was made neatly, square corners and no wrinkles just like Alfred made it. There was no sign that the boy had even pretended to lay down, and the butler was most certainly right when he stated that the amount of effort put into disguises had decreased. Still, having both Duke and Damian missing was… worrying.

His steps quickened even more as he made his way to Tim’s room. He paused to knock first, aware that Tim had a tendency to throw things at people’s heads when they startled him.

There was no response, and Bruce began to try to jimmy the lock before the door swung open on its own.

Weird. Tim_ always_ keeps his door locked.

Bruce didn’t get more than two steps into the room before he noticed that Tim’s bed was also untouched, and his computer and tablet were both completely powered down. His laptop and phone were piled neatly on his bedstand. Tim never did anything neatly, and Bruce felt the first thrill of true horror. Something had happened, and he didn’t know what.

He practically tripped over himself in terror as he flung himself across the hall to Dick’s room. The bed was just as neatly made, but now there were no posters hanging up on his walls, not even the Flying Graysons one Dick never moved. The room itself looked almost barren of all of the personal touches Dick had put in. The colorful blue-striped lamp looked gray in the dark lighting, and Bruce couldn’t bring himself to turn on the light. 

Instead, he headed to Steph’s room, footsteps heavy. The purple walls looked like the beige color they had been before she repainted, the curtains the same bland mauve shade. The pullout couch Harper had slept on was ominously missing, and the bed once again looked like an ornate four-poster rather than the relatively simple bed Steph preferred. All of the pictures Steph had liked and hung up were missing, as well as her phone and laptop. Looking closer, Bruce noticed that the rug as well showed no indents where the couch had lay. It was as if it had never been there in the first place.

He didn’t bother to hold back when he checked on Cass’ room, sprinting down the hallway as fast as he could run. Past the point of caring about appearances, he flung her door open as hard as he could. 

“Cass!”

The room was dark and empty. It smelled musty, almost like it had been ages since it had been aired out. Sheets covered the furnishings, and the bed was missing a mattress. Bruce could only gape in horror.

Without any conscious thought, he found himself heading in the opposite direction, towards Jason’s old room. It was directly next to his bedroom--Jason had chosen it himself when he first came to the Manor. 

As he ran down the hall, he noticed that all of the bedroom doors were once again shut. Bruce had no recollection of shutting them himself.

When he reached Jason’s room, however, the door was already open. Terrified of what he might find inside, Bruce hesitated before the threshold. Then memories of Cass’ room, her furniture draped in sheets and all signs of life missing, danced before his eyes. Steeling his nerves, he stepped inside his second son’s room.

It was exactly as he had left it before leaving for Ethiopia. Bruce hadn’t had the guts to clean out his room, to look at anything that belonged to his dead son. But it looked pristine, showing none of the wear that his other kids’ bedrooms had. 

Then he felt something hit the top of his head. Instinctively, he reached out, only for yet another ‘something’ to land on his palm. Reflexively, his hand closed around it, and he brought it closer to his chest to examine.

It was a glow in the dark star. Looking around, Bruce watched as they fell from the ceiling, some still glowing faintly. It looked as though the sky was falling. As he watched the stars fall, he felt an inexplicable sense of loss. Almost as though it wasn’t the stars that were falling away, but rather, something much more important.

_What had he been searching for again?_

Bruce’s hands began to shake as he let himself out of the room of falling stars, still clutching the second one in his hand. The second the door clicked shut behind him, he was tearing down the stairs searching for Alfred.

He found the old man in the kitchen, calmly slicing vegetables with a butcher knife. 

“Alfred! Alfred, where is…” _What was the name again? _“Where is Cass? And Jason?” He demanded.

Alfred never paused in his smooth chopping of the tomatoes. He never turned to face Bruce, either. 

“I’m afraid I have no clue about whomever you are talking about, Master Bruce. Would you care to elaborate?”

Bruce hesitated again, unable to shake the persistent feeling that there was something more he couldn’t remember. 

“Alfred, what do you know about bats?” He finally settled on asking.

“Nothing much, I’m afraid. Why?”

“Oh, nothing.” Bruce turned and walked back up the stairs. There was something that he had been looking for up here. What was it?

Upstairs, he looked around casually. The eight or so extra bedrooms stood empty, as they had for as long as he could remember. Shrugging, he headed back to his bedroom, idly planning for the next big gala.


	2. Explosion (Kate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ticking still refused to stop, and Kate finally pulled herself upright--only to freeze in horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm like ninety percent sure I don't have any triggers in here but don't be afraid to tell me if I missed something.

Kate woke to a ticking noise seemingly right in her ear. Lazily, she reached out a hand to bat it away. She had today off--no patrol, no work, nothing. Well, nothing except hanging out with her numerous cousins. Exactly how many did Bruce adopt again? What did he do, go to the orphanage and ask for all of the black-haired, blue-eyed ones?

Well, at least there was a blonde and a redhead. Though it wouldn’t surprise her if they had blue eyes too. 

The ticking still refused to stop, and Kate finally pulled herself upright--only to freeze in horror. What she had thought was an alarm clock was actually a timer, counting down to twenty-five minutes. A cream colored piece of paper was folded neatly on top, stark black ink in sharp contrast to the background.

She didn’t need to read the paper to know, instinctively, that the timer was linked to a bomb. She grabbed it anyways.

Mere seconds after reading the first paragraph, the paper fluttered from her grasp as she ran out of the door. 

The hallway was eerily quiet, no signs of any of her numerous nieces or nephews, or her obstinate cousin. Kate only bothered to check Cass and Bruce’s room, pinpointing them as the least likely to vanish from the Manor with friends. She was unsurprised to find them missing; it simply confirmed what she already suspected. 

Her next mad dash down the halls led her directly to the Batcave. She needed to know exactly who she was dealing with before simply running off and making a mess of things.

The Batcomputer (and she sincerely doubted it was Dick who stuck to the bat-theme so rigorously) displayed nothing but static. Kate growled at it angrily before turning on her heel and stalking to her locker. At the very least, she could make sure she wasn’t going to go in unarmed.

Both her suit and her utility belt were missing. Swearing madly enough to put a sailor to shame, Kate went to go grab some basic batarangs instead--only to find the drawer as empty as the head on her cousin’s shoulders.

Fine. Whoever this was had made their point. Kate was simply going to fight them bare-handed.

The note hadn’t said where the villain of the night was holding her family, but Kate didn’t need it spelled out for her. She was a detective too. Without breaking stride, she swung around and jogged to the depths of the cave.

The back alcove was shrouded in darkness, but there was enough light there that Kate could make out the shadowy figures of her nieces and nephews. Jason’s larger build made him particularly easy to pick out--or was that Bruce? Cass was near the edge of the cluster… no, Tim? Harper? The bomb sat right next to them, red lights flashing ominously as the numbers counted down from ten.

This couldn’t possibly be all there was to it. It was simply too easy. There had to be a second bomb somewhere, or a hostage missing, or, or…

No. There was no use in focussing on what-ifs. Kate knelt down next to the bomb, using her fingernails to carefully pry off the back panel. Inside was a clusterfuck of wires--some that she could tell led absolutely nowhere. They were all black and grey, too; there was absolutely no variation of color on the entire bomb. Smart on their parts. You can’t resort to cutting the red wire if there simply is no red wire.

She could cut them all. But there was no guarantee that one of them wasn’t a trick wire that would set the bomb off the second it was damaged. Tilting the bomb up carefully, Kate noticed a second panel behind all of the wires. Delicately reaching in, she removed the cover--jolting a black wire loose in the process. 

Kate froze, ready to throw the bomb away from her in an instant if it should go off. It didn’t, and the numbers continued ticking. Thank the lucky stars.

The second panel contained nothing but yellow wires. Kate scowled down at it before setting the bomb aside and moving to her family. If whoever this is wants to be this way, fine. I’ll make sure they regret it…

She couldn’t see much in the darker shadows where they were keeping the younger vigilantes, but as she approached them, a deep shiver ran down her spine. A strong sense of wrongness. Kate paused--the last time she had felt that way, she had come the closest to dying that she had ever came before.

Who were they dealing with right now?!?! It wasn’t the Joker. Not Riddler, not Two-Face. Scarecrow? This wasn’t exactly his m.o…. 

Cautiously, she crept towards the chained flock of vigilantes. It wasn’t until she was standing directly before them with her hand on the chain that she realized exactly what was so wrong. 

Their faces were blank--and not blank as in no expression, but blank as in no facial features with which to make expressions. Kate stumbled back, horrified, as the thing that resembled Dick turned it’s face towards her. The Nightwing suit hung off of his frame as if to mock the fact that she honestly thought she could have saved her family.

A quick glance over the other bodies in the huddle revealed they, too, had the same facelessness that the imposter did. All except for one, it seemed--near the back of the group, a darkly-clothed figure sat tied with a bag over their head. 

Was it a trap? Probably. But Kate was desperate enough at this point to try it. Carefully, she made her way between the chained whatever-they-weres to reach the shrouded figure. Steeling herself, she reached down carefully to just grasp the edges of the hood in her hands. The second she moved to draw the hood off, however, a hand clenched around her wrist, not letting her move another inch. It felt cold and rough--almost like stone.

Kate wrenched her wrist back to no avail. There was no give. The hand belonged to the creature resembling Jason--it’s soulless eyes seemed to look beyond her to something that she couldn’t see.

Then a noise broke the eerie silence, making Kate’s blood run cold. 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Glancing over to the bomb that she had abandoned, she noticed that the red numbers were once again flashing. All of the wiring was once again intact. 

The hand tightened around her wrist, and she now had the sense that demon-Jason was entirely focussed on her. Instead of trying to pull away, Kate stared directly at the thing’s eye sockets.

“Let me go. I have to dismantle the bomb.” There was no reaction from demon-Jason, but the hooded figure twitched and half-turned in her direction.

“C’mon… Jason? There is a bomb. Listen to me.” Kate turned to demanding. Once again, demon-Jason didn’t respond. This time, however, the captive next to him began thrashing madly. Kate took a few startled steps back, only to find demon-Jason had let go of her wrist. Immediately, she turned to the bomb. The second she started towards it, however, the ticking stopped immediately.

She turned back to the person under the hood, and the ticking began anew. The numbers once again began flashing. 

With a growing sense of hopelessness, Kate noticed the numbers were now at five minutes and counting. Making up her mind, she sprinted for the prisoner, neatly dodging demon-Jason. Grabbing the back of the person’s shirt, she threw them over her shoulder and turned to escape.

Three more feet to freedom! Two! They could make it!

Something slammed into her, knocking her backwards and right on top of the cluster of ‘demons’. They instantly grabbed her arms and legs, immobilizing her and not allowing any chance of escape. The ticking grew, becoming more and more frantic by the second. Kate found her pulse racing along with it, faster and faster and faster and faster and--

The bomb went off, and Kate’s vision went black.


	3. Lost (alt. prompt; feat. Dick!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His room should have only been a five-minute walk, yet Dick felt like he’d been walking for ten. And he still hadn’t reached the stairs--which should’ve been at the end of the hallway. Maybe he took a wrong turn in the dark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the 'family fluff' tag earns it's keep (and the angst but shhhhh...)

Dick uncurled himself from his cramped position on the couch, where he had fallen asleep while watching a movie with his siblings last night. His joints were stiff, and it seemed like every vertebrae in his spine popped when he arched his back. 

It had been worth it though; looking back at the couch, Dick couldn’t stifle a smile at the sight of his siblings. They were sprawled across each other in a puppy pile, limbs sticking out randomly and spilled popcorn trailed across the cushions. To get out, Dick had been forced to move Tim’s feet from his lap and Damian’s arm from where it was looped around his shoulders. 

Down at the far end of the couch, most of his siblings were clustered around Barbara. She had settled herself down in the corner, and Dick found himself biting back a laugh at the image they painted. Jason had apparently done his best to wedge himself in her lap, like he used to when he was smaller. Cass had draped herself over Babs’ shoulders and the back of the couch, reminding Dick of a cat. Speaking of cats, Tim had managed to pretzel himself _between _Babs and the back of the couch. (And Dick thought he was the flexible one.) Steph was leaning against Babs’ side, affectionately drooling on her shoulder. Damian was tucked under her arm, his legs twisted up so they rested on Duke’s shoulders next to him. Harper sprawled across all three of their laps, so her head rested on Steph’s arm. 

Dick needed his camera. He really did.

Quietly, without waking them up, he stepped lightly over to the end table where he had left his phone. 

_Damn, it’s dead. And I know better than to pickpocket any of them…_ Opening the door stealthily, he turned to check on his siblings._ If I so much as drop a pin I’m going to at least wake Damian, Cass, and Jason up. Nothing short of an explosion or me stealing his phone will wake Tim up, at least. _

Gratefully, he noticed that they were all still asleep, though. Leaving the lights on, he slipped out to the dark hallway. 

His room should have only been a five-minute walk, yet Dick felt like he’d been walking for ten. And he still hadn’t reached the stairs--which should’ve been at the end of the hallway. Maybe he took a wrong turn in the dark?

No. There weren’t any other corridors to turn down. It just seemed longer because it was the night before Halloween, was all. Speaking of which, Dick couldn’t wait to take his siblings out for trick or treating. Damian would love it.

Although he should probably put kid leashes on all of them. He didn’t put it past a single one to do their best to escape ‘family bonding time’. He mentally laughed at the idea of Tim or Jason trying to escape and failing miserably.

His train of thought was abruptly derailed when he slammed into a wall, one that Dick knew for a fact had not been there when he came downstairs earlier this evening. 

Well, fuck. He had dealt with the occult enough with the Titans to be able to recognize its effects. And unless Bruce randomly decided to put in a wall in the space of four hours without waking anybody, this wasn’t normal. 

_Wait. The kids…_ Dick didn’t think twice before turning and sprinting down the hall to the movie room. Sure, his siblings could defend themselves, but like hell was he going to let them. Part of being a family was protection--and besides, Harper and Duke hadn’t died yet and he planned to delay the inevitable as long as possible. 

Suddenly, he stopped in horror. The wall was an entirely different color here--a dark cream rather than the pale off-white the main halls of the house sported. The large paintings of deceased family members hung from the walls, glaring judgmentally down at them. _This was the East Wing, how in the third dimension did I end up here?!_

Turning a corner, he staggered to a stop in front of the newest paintings--Martha and Thomas seemed to smile encouragingly, while Jason’s gap-toothed grin shone down at him.

Staring up at the pictures, Dick felt utterly confused. Spinning around again, he went to head back in the direction he came--only to find a wall there, too. This one was draped in high-quality velvet, dust resting along the folds like it had been standing there longer than Dick had been alive. The carpet’s fringe ended before the wall, too--six inches between the end of the fringe and the trim. Dick _knew_ this. 

Yet he had just come that way… right? Or maybe he was just going insane. Maybe it was a crazy lucid dream based on the movie he just watched. 

What was the movie he had just watched?

“Lost, Master Dick?”

Dick whipped himself around to face Alfred, the old butler standing there while looking amused. 

“Alfred? Where… what is this?! Was this wall there before?! How did I end up in the East Wing?!”

The old butler’s kindly disposition didn’t change at all. “What are you talking about, Master Dick? I’m afraid this is the West Wing. Are you feeling well?”

Dick turned around in horror, only to see bedroom doors breaking up the intervals between the walls. There was Steph’s open to his left, and he could dimly make out her and Harper’s silhouettes. 

“But… the movie…”

“The movie ended quite some time ago, I’m afraid. Care to go to bed now?”

There was a thinly veiled command masked in his grandfather’s polite tone, and Dick didn’t dare disobey. He quickly hugged Alfred before turning to his own bedroom door, shaking his head as he did so.

The elderly man watched him leave, before seemingly vanishing where he stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all can't tell but I was grinning like a madman the entire time I was writing this. Also, old Twilight Zone episodes are the perfect background for writing these!

**Author's Note:**

> b o o


End file.
